


That's The Way

by puszysty



Category: Popslash
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-07
Updated: 2008-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puszysty/pseuds/puszysty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five guys, one coffee shop</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the video for That's The Way Love Goes (*Nsync cover version)

Thursday nights at the Rhythm Nation Café are pretty quiet. It's the night before the rotating groups of bands and the night after open mike night. The only people who come to occupy the space in the café, besides Shelley the barista, are a set of five men, each with a regular routine.

Chris was always the first one in the door. He arrives at roughly 6:30, and immediately sits down to set up the chess set. Chris always plays black, under the superstition that one can only win if playing with a "lucky color."

Lance strolls in next, a winning smile on his face like he's just closed a huge deal. He walks immediately up to the counter and orders some kind of frothy drink, usually cappuccinos of varying flavors. The inevitable frown comes to his face when he hears Chris call him, as though he didn't already know it was coming.

"Hey Lance, ready to get your ass kicked again?"

Lance turns around to glare at Chris. "Chris, you really shouldn't be using that kind of language in a public establishment."

"Why sugarcoat the truth?"

"You're full of crap Chris. Get ready to be schooled."

"Schooled? Who the fuck says schooled anymore?"

"Language Chris."

"Ugh, fine Mr. Stiff. Who the heck says schooled anymore? Enter the 21st century Lance. And maybe once you do, you'll realize what an ass whooping you're in for."

Chris always wins.

 

Around the time the first few pawns are out of starting position, Joey saunters in. He is practically dragging, the weight of a very long day on his shoulders. He mumbles his order to Shelley the barista, who sometimes puts his usual bagel on the house if she's feeling especially generous. Joey flops down on the giant plush couch in the middle of the coffee shop floor munching on his bagel. It usually isn't long before he's fast asleep strewn across the couch. Any other night, and Shelley would have to ask him to wake up, but since Thursdays are so slow, she just lets him sleep.

Justin enters sometime after Joey, though never at the exact same time. He's the kind of guy that likes to pretend he's too cool for routine, yet has not missed a Thursday at Rhythm Nation in over a year. Still, no one seems to know why Justin comes on Thursdays, or even comes at all. He hates coffee, and he never seems to do much while he's here. He doesn't always order something either, and has nearly been kicked out a few times for daring to bring something from Starbucks in through the door. Today, thankfully, is not one of those days.

"Hey, Shelley, my main bar-ee-stah! Can you get me a peach smoothie?" Justin flashes a toothy grin.

Shelley rolls her eyes at him, but is really just relieved that she won't have to see him to the door. After all, while he is off staring at the pictures of Hollywood starlets that adorn the walls, she's usually staring at him.

"Thanks Shells. Your smoothies are the shit."

Before Justin can even take a seat, JC bursts through the door. He's clad in an odd assortment of colors and accessories, outfits that only he could manage to pull off and still make look good. He's got a stack of magazines in one hand and his wallet ready and halfway open in the other. He, like the others (except perhaps Justin), has just come from work, but doesn't come to escape it. JC's job as reporter and editor of the culture section of a few local papers is what brought him here in the first place, and apparently it fit right in with his eclectic, yet sophisticated style.

JC smiles sweetly as he approaches the counter. "The usual please." JC's usual consists of an earl grey tea and whatever the panini of the week happens to be.

"I can't believe you drink that shit," Joey says from a half-asleep state on the couch.

"Earl grey is not shit Joey. It's a fine British tea. And if you were cultured enough, you'd appreciate it as well."

"Guys with a wife and kids at home don't have time to be cultured," Joey replies, emphasizing 'cultured' with air quotes.

"You could at least manage to actually sit on that couch." Joey throws him the finger.

JC carefully pulls out a chair to sit on and flips open his magazine.

"Yo C, what's going on in Village Voice, or whatever it is you read?" Justin yells over.

"Newsweek today. There's a very interesting article in here about climate change."

Justin turns away disinterested, preferring to keep his focus on the ladies on the wall. Joey falls fast asleep on the couch while JC quietly reads and eats. Chris focuses on what new strategy will confuse Lance. All of them stay, pausing from their lives for the next few hours.

And that's the way it goes. Until one day, it doesn't.

 

Chris is the first to arrive, as always, at 6:30. Only this time he isn't greeted by the smell of coffee beans and Shelley the barista, but by a large sign on the door.

"Closed for business? What the fuck?!"

Slowly the other guys trickle in, in their regular order, while Chris stands frozen at the door. None says a word, too shocked to dare even make a move.

JC is the first to break the ice. "Guys, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'll go nuts now that they're closed."

"Tell me about it. This totally throws off my routine!" Lance bangs his head on the glass door.

Chris is still staring blankly at the door. "We should break in."

"What? Are you nuts? That'll get us arrested!"

"Not if we do it right." Chris finally turns around to face the other four. "First off, we're not going in through the front."

"Well, duh. Even I'm not too stupid to try that one." Joey rolls his eyes.

"Heck, it's closed. No one will even notice if we go in through the back."

"Chris, you know they padlock doors once a place closes, right?"

"Lance, quit being so goddamn sensible," prods Justin. "Chris is onto something. I'm not leaving this place without one last Thursday night."

JC nods in agreement. "Well, we're going to get caught if we keep standing out front where everyone can see. If we're gonna plot, let's do it in the back."

All five guys head to the back door of the building, where the padded locked awaits them.

"So. Anybody know how to pick a lock?"

"I thought you weren't gonna be in on this Lance," Joey says.

"I changed my mind."

"That is one massive lock. You'd have to be a master locksmith to pick that thing."

"Anybody got a coat hanger?"

"Coat hangers only work on car doors. You really think that's gonna help on that thing?"

"What, you got any better ideas? I mean, I don't wanna ruin my house key trying to stick it in that thing."

"Uh, guys."

"What is it, JC? We're trying to figure out how to pick this lock here."

"The window to the kitchen is right there." Sure enough, the window was just off to the side, and low enough to climb in if they jumped.

"Good idea," says Justin. "So what do you suggest we do, break it?"

"I've got a tool box in my car. If we unscrew the frame, we won't have to break it."

"Joey, you've got a toolbox in your car?" asks Lance.

"You never know when a tricycle is gonna break down, man."

Joey runs quickly to fetch the toolbox from his car. He pops the bottom two screws out easily with a screwdriver. The rest is a bit trickier. Lance and Justin barely manage to hold up Joey while he unscrews the top two. With the last screw, the window frame comes crashing down, as does Joey.

"Lucky your body got in the way, or else that thing would've made a lot of noise."

Joey groans. "I'm glad you're so concerned about my well-being Chris."

"A few broken bones is way better than jail, man. Quit whining."

Apparently the thought of jail makes JC realize his brilliant idea has a few flaws. "Does anybody know how we're gonna get that frame back on once we're inside?"

For the rest of them, spontaneity seems more the option. "We'll put it back when we leave. Let's go."

"Justin, you go first," orders Chris.

"Why me? This was your idea."

"Because you're wearing bright green, you moron! You're not exactly inconspicuous. Now get in there!"

JC and Lance hoist Justin up, so that he could, begrudgingly, crawl through the window. The next thing they hear is the sound of a crash and "OW, FUCK!"

"Justin?!"

"Watch it coming in guys, the oven is right below that window!"

With a snicker, Chris asks, "Alright guys, who's next?"

Joey smiles. "You are Chris."

"What? No way. Somebody else."

"Nope. You're the shortest, and there's no way you're gonna reach that window without help."

Before he can protest, the other guys grab in to hoist him up. Practically being tossed through the window, Chris barely manages to be caught by Justin and not do a faceplant onto a burner. The other three follow, with JC having to leap to get in. Once all safely away from any appliances, they attempt to make their way out of the kitchen.

"Guys, where's the light switch?" asks Justin. "I really don't feel like sustaining any more injuries today."

"They probably shut off the power when they closed the business down. Besides, if we turned on the lights, it'd show up on somebody's electric bill."

"Lance man, not what I wanted to hear."

"Hey I think I found a doorknob!" Joey shouts. He opens it. He isn't greeted by an open lobby, but by the very strong smell of coffee. "Never mind. Storage room."

Someone, though too dark to tell who, does find the correct door and the guys filter in to the lobby. What little daylight is left seeps in through the windows, just enough for the guys to make their way to their usual places: Chris and Lance at a table, Joey on the couch, JC wherever he feels like sitting, and Justin leaning against one of the large square columns in the room. Thankful that Rhythm Nation was decorated with candles, JC pulls a lighter out of his pocket to give himself more reading light. Chris pulls out the chess set, which remains with most of the supplies in the room, and prepares for his match with Lance.

"Alright Lancey boy, bring it!"

"You know it's on. Prepare to lose."

"Oh pfft, only in your dreams."

Joey has not yet fallen asleep on the couch, still a tad alert from getting a strong whiff of coffee from the storage room. He has, however, made himself very comfortable on the couch, arms crossed and legs stretched out.

"I think I should take this couch home," he muses.

Justin gives him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Oh yea, I'm sure they'd appreciate you stealing it."

"I'd ask! Besides, it's not like they're gonna use it anymore, why let a good couch go to waste?"

"Well if you get to take the couch, I'm taking the pictures of those sexy ladies over there."

"Justin, you are a perv. I like it." Joey smiles.

A contented silence fills the room, the only sound being the occasional clack of chess pieces. Until the word 'checkmate' comes out from an unfamiliar side of the table.

"What the hell? How did you win?"

"That's what happens when the universe is out of whack, Chris." JC says without looking up from his magazine.

"Shut up JC." Chris glares at him.

"JC, toss me whatever it is you're not reading will you?" JC throws Lance a magazine.

"What, not gonna gloat in your victory, Lance? Joey, c'mon let's play cards. I need to beat somebody at something."

"Me? What makes you think you can beat me?"

"I can beat you because I've got skills. Let's play at the booth in that corner, since Lance hasn't moved his ass from the table yet."

"Fine, you're on. But I'm picking the card game." Joey deals out all the cards between the two. "It's war. Now we'll see who's got skills."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "War doesn't take skills."

Joey grins. "Exactly."

"Man, those two are going to be at it all night now. I'm gonna have find some way to entertain myself. I miss the barista already," Justin whines.

JC puts down his magazine. "It's too bad there's no power. We could've hauled out the mikes and given the emo kids a run for their money."

"Haha, you on stage with the teenagers; I think I would pay to see that. But I like the way you think. We'll open mike it without the mikes. Care to join us Lance?"

"Thank you, but I'd rather sit here with my dignity still in tact."

"Your loss. We'll be sure to sing something entertaining for you."

Lance chucks a chess piece at Justin. "You're already entertaining enough, I don't need you warbling for me." Justin just chucks the chess piece back at him.

So while Chris and Joey are in a heated game of war, Justin and JC are on the stage impersonating emo teenagers, trying to outdo each other making up the strangest lyrics they can think of, and Lance is rolling his eyes at both groups of them, amused but trying not to let it show. As Chris and Joey's game of war comes near an end, Justin, JC, and Lance become spectators, cheering whenever Joey, down to just a few cards, manages a take. All façade of cool and disinterested from any of the guys has been completely lost by this point in the evening. Chris smacks down a card, taking the last of Joey's stack, and does a mild victory dance in his seat.

Joey points at Chris. "Don't think this is over. Next time Chris, you are going down!" As Joey stands, there is an immediate anticipation of his destination, and suddenly all five take off in a mad dash to the couch. Chris and Lance flop themselves on it first, and JC somehow manages an arm, though not without toppling over into Lance first. Justin just plops himself on the floor, and Joey, disappointed, grabs a chair and pulls it over.

Justin sighs. "I can't believe this place is really closed."

Lance nods. "I know man. Life's just not gonna be the same without it."

"Agreed," Chris answers. "Yet I have to say, this has to have been the best Thursday I've ever had here."

The room is silent for a minute until JC speaks, "Well, what do you say guys, my place next week?"

"Count me in."  
"I'm there."  
"Sounds like a plan."  
"See you then."

 

And that's the way it goes.


End file.
